


I Could Count the Stars in Your Eyes and Trace the Constellations On Your Skin

by fikkifini



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Drinking, Drunk Confession, Drunk Nanase Haruka, Drunk kiss, First Fight, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and cuddles, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Haru pukes a bit sorry, Haru throws one punch okay, M/M, Make Up, Makoto's Freckles, OH IT HURTS, Rutting, Sexy Dancing, Slow Build, and Makeout, but it's okay Mako-chan we know it was on accident, change of heart, kind of, mild violence, reigisa doing their best to help, so much crying, super duper fluff, they make an important appearance, we still love you anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5701663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fikkifini/pseuds/fikkifini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru has never been good at holding his liquor, but he has trouble holding in his feelings as well one night when Makoto looks too good and the room is just too hot. Love confessions can't always go right the first time though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Could Count the Stars in Your Eyes and Trace the Constellations On Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> So, lately I’ve been really intrigued with the whole freckles on Makoto’s back thing and also long, drawn out fics that don’t instantly turn into smut right after they get together so that’s what I have here today. The whole thing really was inspired just by the last section, which I wrote first. But don’t worry, there are still some smutty parts, just not as… vivid as I usually write them. Anyway, enjoy! Please leave a review, and if you found this on tumblr, don’t forget to go back and reblog it!

 

Haruka feels more than mortified and ridiculous the first time he’s drunk with his friends, plus all the rest of the strangers he’s surrounded by. He has this feeling that his words are slurring more than he would like, and when he stands or sits it usually is followed by a wobble and a faint dizziness in his head that makes his cheek flush hot and red and his legs feel tingly. He feels even more embarrassed when he finds himself predictably clinging to Makoto guidance through the crowded, humid house, clutching his elbow as they weave in and out between chattering teens, doing their best not to knock their red plastic cups and spill their so-coveted alcoholic mixers. Haruka can’t stop himself from noticing the stares and sly glances being thrown at his brunet-headed best friend- and current tour guide- from curious girls, and he can’t really say he blames them. Makoto looks unjustly handsome in the dim lighting of the basement, if that’s even possible, despite the fact that his forehead shines with just the slightest sheen of sweat and his usual fringe is pushed unusually to the side and has managed to stick that way from all the moisture in the air. The black v-neck that he’s wearing, paired with a pair of tight dark jeans, gives off a sort of unexpected “bad boy” vibe that is intimidating and mysterious and enticing all at the same time, and Haruka is almost one hundred and three percent sure that Makoto isn’t even aware of it.

            “Does this look okay?” The green eyed giant had asked just hours earlier, standing in front of a mirror in his bedroom and tugging at his almost-too-tight t-shirt with fidgety, nervous fingers. Haruka glanced over at the sound of the question being asked for the sixth time since Makoto got out of the shower and began the long and strenuous process of determining what to wear for a social event.

“It’s fine,” Haruka barely acknowledged, like he had with the last few outfits of choice, but unlike before found his eyes stuck on the sight before him. Makoto looked… good. Too good. His body being hugged graciously in all the right places, the fitted shirt defining those broad shoulders, his wide, sturdy chest, the narrow curve of his waist….

And those _jeans._

Haruka was very aware of Makoto’s admittedly fan-fucking-tastic ass. Hell, he saw it every day after swim practice, with that cute little tan line that sat right above his crack, and the little dimples dented in his skin at the base of his spine. It was almost endearing, but only because it was Makoto, and only because Haruka felt that most things about Makoto were inherently endearing. But these jeans were something else entirely, and Haruka got a full, glorious view of them as Makoto continued to turn back and forth, facing Haruka, then scrutinizing himself in the mirror, then repeating the process.

“You’re just saying that so I’ll pick something,” Makoto pointed out, and Haruka didn’t have to answer aside from the small smirk he gave the taller boy, which made Makoto laugh with exasperation. “Alright, fine. You win. I guess I owe you anyway for dragging you along with me to this thing.”

“It’s no big deal,” he had shrugged with his hands behind his head. To be honest, Haruka felt almost unreasonably more comfortable being at this party, or whatever, where he could watch Makoto and make sure he was okay rather than leaving him in the hands of two of the most accidentally irresponsible people he knew: Nagisa and Rei. They meant well, but there was no chance Haruka was going to leave those three together just to get into all sorts of “mischief” as the blonde would refer to it.

“I know you don’t like this sort of thing,” Makoto had continued softly, plucking at his shirt in the mirror and then ruffling and combing his hair through his fingers, trying to get it to lay smooth (a useless act, no matter how many times the poor guy tried). “And I know you don’t like Hamasaki-san,” Haruka couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in guilty agreement at the name of the party’s host, “it just means a lot that you’re sacrificing your own comfort for mine, you know?”

“Or I just never gave a shit about either in the first place,” Haruka had supplied with a mock-innocent expression.

“You don’t give a shit about anything,” Makoto chuckled in response, finally done primping and turning to face his best friend, “except me, of course.”

“You just keep telling yourself that, and maybe you’ll feel better about yourself one day,” he had joked in return, the two of them smiling almost dumbly at each other.

And now, Haruka can’t make himself _stop_ smiling dumbly every time Makoto speaks to him, even when asking the most mundane questions like, “Hey, can you hold my drink for a sec?”, “Haru, do you want to grab something to eat?”, and worst of all, “Where’s the bathroom?”, which leaves the raven giggling and leaning heavily against Makoto’s strong frame, clutching his shirt tightly.

What Haruka finds even more troubling though than his current off-balanced state is his unwavering need to dance, and the lack of self-control that is required to stop him from doing so. For a brief moment Haruka entertains the question of _Do I really give a shit what the people here think of me?_ The answer that comes to him is a satisfactory and amusing _Fuck no,_ which then leads to Haruka casually breaking out in dance to whatever song is pounding his ears from the speakers, and thus leaving Makoto in pleasant shock at the sight of his friend letting loose and swaying easily to the beat in front of him.

“Haru, you’re dancing!” The brunet exclaims the obvious, because he can’t quite contain his excitement at seeing a new side of the sapphire-eyed boy.

“Yeah, and you’re not,” he yells over the music, then takes Makoto with his free hand, a full drink in the other, and starts swinging their arms in that way that little kids do when they dance with each other, “We should fix that.”

Makoto’s bubbling laughter is the only sound Haruka cares to hear above the blaring bass, and the pair dance together carelessly, if not a little awkwardly, while failing miserably at suppressing the goofy smiles and embarrassed chuckles escaping them. Haruka lets himself be moved and molded by the music, his hips swiveling and arms somehow finding their way above his head while his head drops and eyes close, feeling each beat rumble through his body. Makoto stares at the graceful form before him, at a loss at how Haruka has managed to be so drunk yet look so fluid and agile dancing like this. Unsurprisingly, Haruka moves with the same flowing beauty as the very water he swims in, caressed by the heavy air around him that envelops and adopts him into its presence as easily as liquid.

Unaware of how close Makoto is to him, Haruka lets his hips and ass take the lead, brushing against his best friend every so often, accidentally at first, and feeling an odd heat blooming within him each time it happens. He likes the feeling very much, starts to crave it even every time it dissipates when they disconnect, and Haruka dares to move further back, purposefully pressing his backside firmly against Makoto, feeling the warmth of his chest against his shoulders. He hears a weak gasp from behind him and smiles just imagining the face Makoto must be making right now. Rocking his pelvis back and forth with tantalizing ease, Haruka unabashedly grinds his ass against Makoto’s crotch, cheeks flushing red from the lewd implications of the act, but it feels good, sort of invigorating to be so forward and blunt with his desires. And oh desires he has, not specifically for Makoto (that would just be wrong- lusting for his best friend and all), but because Haruka can’t help the way his skin is yearning for the heat of a sensual touch and how his groin twinges and aches each time he feels Makoto’s pelvis pressing against his ass, and if he’s not mistaken, the faint outline of a hardening cock accompanying it.

Haruka should feel embarrassed, he _really_ should, but just the idea, the simple knowledge that he can make someone hard just from this is quite the boost to his confidence, and so he ventures to go further, letting his hands drop behind his head only for his fingers to wind their way into Makoto’s sandy brown hair, tugging him closer. Hesitant, quivering hands clasp onto his hips and Haruka swears, would even put money on it, that he hears a harsh, strained whimper of his name from the boy behind him. He peers over his shoulder coyly, eyes alight with curiosity as he takes in Makoto’s heavily blushing face, and the way he’s biting his lip with frustration and how his own viridian gaze is glued to where Haruka’s ass meets his groin.

“Haru-chan,” he finally mutters like his mouth is made of putty, tearing his eyes away from their intimate connection and meeting the shorter boy’s, “people are staring…”

“So? Let them stare.”

“We can’t- I mean, they’re going to think-” he stammers, but Haruka cuts him off by swiftly twisting around, meeting Makoto almost nose-to-nose.

“Think what? That I want you? That you want me?” He purrs without hesitation, internally pleased with the rise he’s getting out of his friend- literally. He keeps the distance between them chokingly small, chests nearly touching and Makoto’s thigh practically being ridden by Haruka’s now dully throbbing groin. Makoto’s eyes are so wide Haruka is afraid they might pop out, and his jaw is slack with dismay.

“Haru, s-stop saying weird things. It’s embarrassing…”

“Is it true?”

“Stop.”

Haruka manages to step even closer, despite the little space there is between them already, then reaches up and runs his hand up Makoto’s firm pecks to his shoulders, squeezing tightly, “Admit it. I felt it- I felt how bad you want me.”

Makoto looks absolutely ashamed at the accusation and pushes Haruka away, only to grip his wrist securely to stop him from falling over.

“Alright, I think someone has had enough for the night,” Makoto finally enforces his thoughts by taking Haruka’s now near-empty cup out of his hand and setting it on a random table beside them.

“Thanks, _mom_ ,” Haruka slurs sarcastically, and jabs at Makoto’s chest with an uncertain finger, “but I don’t need a babysitter.”

“God, you’re sassy when you drink.”

“I’m sassy all the time, I just don’t give enough fucks to say what I want to say,” Haruka replies indignantly, but Makoto can’t help but grin, despite the tension between them.

“Whatever you say, Haru-chan.”

“Anything? You mean it?” Haruka’s mood switches with breakneck speeds, and he looks up at Makoto with such a gaze of pure wonder and awe, like Makoto is a single shooting star in a vast, black sky.

The brunet laughs apprehensively but still sweet, a sound Haruka wishes he could hear better over the loud bass of the music blaring around them, “Sure.”

The words slip out before Haruka has even the slightest idea of their gravity.

“Kiss me.”

Makoto blinks widely twice, then this sort of horrified expression spreads across his face, like someone just told the whole room his most personal secret and he’s about to cry, and Haruka doesn’t like how sad he looks. Haruka doesn’t like Makoto being sad _at all_ , and he decides he’ll just be the one to fix it then. He reaches more needily for Makoto, grabbing his shirt fabric in his fist and cupping the back of his neck, then does his best to pull himself up against his friend despite his weakened state.

“Haru, stop,” Makoto insists half-heartedly, his eyes almost pitiful in their viridian gaze.

“Whatever Makoto is sad about, I’ll make it better,” the raven mutters, trying to reach Makoto’s face, but failing quite miserably.

“No, Haru. You’re drunk, and you’re confused.”

Haruka takes this quite personally, and he pouts with a harsh squint, trying to read the conflicted expression on Makoto’s face. These are the times when he wished he had his best friend’s weird ability to read his mind.

“I _know_ you want me,” he says bluntly, if not a little bitterly.

Makoto sighs, frustration eminent in the sound, and he lowers his voice to a stern murmur, “This is not the place to talk about this, Haruka. You need to go home.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Haru, _please._ You’re not making any sense and you can barely stand.”

“I can stand just fine!” As if to punctuate his point, Haruka straightens his back stiffly, but he shifts too far backward and loses his balance, stumbling and gripping Makoto for support.

“Yeah, right. You’re going home,” Makoto reiterates, then starts to drag his dazed and dizzy friend by the forearm towards the stairs.

“You… can’t… make me!” Haruka grunts between words as he pulls against Makoto’s near effortless force, but his limbs feel detached from his own body, and he can’t seem to muster the kind of strength he wishes he had.

Before Haruka can give another defiant tug, he’s being lifted into the air and thrown over Makoto’s shoulder, stomach heaving slightly at the sudden shift. “Oh yes I can,” Makoto growls lowly in response, clear anger now etched upon his features.

“Tachibana-kun,” a vague-looking girl nearby interrupts timidly, “is everything alright with Nanase?”

“He’s just had a bit too much to drink, so I think we’re going to head home,” Makoto is so good at putting on that fake smile for people that Haruka doesn’t even have to see it to know just by the sound of his voice what it looks like. Eyes happily shut, with little crinkles in his skin mingling with his dark lashes, his grin polite and modest, yet dazzling enough to deter any sort of doubt about whatever he’s saying.

“Alright, I hope he feels better. And thanks for coming!” The girl waves eagerly, which Haruka sees clearly once Makoto turns his back to her to head up to the main floor of the house, and Haruka feels a drowsiness quickly taking over his head.

“Makotoooo,” he wines when they finally break out of the house into the cool evening air where they can breathe easily, “I want to lay down.”

“You can sleep in the car,” Makoto said softly, his tone more gentle than just moments before in the basement as they approach his small, predictably green hatchback at the end of the street.

“Snuggle with me,” Haruka hums, making Makoto shiver unwillingly.

“Not now,” is the curt reply he receives.

Haruka settles for it, mostly because his head is starting to feel heavy, and his eyelids aren’t understanding his brain signals telling them to stay open, so he shuts up and lets Makoto gingerly tuck him into the car and put on his seatbelt, then close the door and re-enter on the driver’s side. Haruka can’t remember much after that, and he passes out before Makoto can even find his favorite radio station to lull him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Haruka wakes up next, it’s because the green and blue snake that’s wrapped around his midsection is being yanked off suddenly, floating away up into the purple-clouded sky on a bouquet of balloons.

At least, that’s what happens in his dream.

His eyes flutter open to see Makoto’s face of methodical concentration leaning over him, and his hands unbuckling Haruka’s seatbelt.

“Where are we?” The raven groans, a little upset at being pulled from his oddly pleasing dream.

“Home,” is all the reply he gets.

“Did you drive?”

“Yes, Haru.”

“That’s illegal,” he says matter-of-factly as Makoto lifts him out of the car bridal style, kicking the car door closed, then heads up the stone steps before them.

“I didn’t drink, remember?”

Haruka wraps his arms around Makoto’s neck and buries his head there, nose pressed into his hair as he pouts, “That’s no fun.”

“I’m more concerned about keeping you safe rather than fun,” Makoto’s voice is somber, and Haruka feels like maybe he’s upset.

“Is Makoto mad at me,” he frowns as they enter his house, and he hears the exasperated huff that comes from his friend.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Pwomise?” he slurs, and Makoto can’t help but chuckle.

“Yes, I pwomise.”

“Prove it,” the smaller boy murmurs, the challenge in his words clear.

Makoto’s footsteps are heavy as he makes his way up the stairs to Haruka’s bedroom, and Haruka can tell he’s hesitant to respond by the way his eyes shift and he chews his lower lip. When they enter the room, the silence between them is nearly suffocating.

“How?” Makoto whispers, just barely audible. Haruka lifts his head, meeting Makoto’s eyes with ones soft and confused. “How do you want me to prove it,” he elaborates in such a low tone that Haruka shivers with anticipation.

“Kiss me,” he sighs much more delicately than the first time it’s asked. He knows that he’s drunk, and he knows that’s why he’s asking, so that maybe it will all be a good enough excuse for tomorrow when Makoto asks what the hell was going through his head last night, and he’ll be able to blame it on the drink and not his confusing, repulsive desires for the only person in his life he respects more than himself. So he can lie his way out of coming to terms with a truth that has gnawed at his insides since they were just children.

Haruka has already come to the conclusion pretty quickly that there’s no way he’s getting what he asked, considering Makoto is perfectly sober and perfectly aware of how big of a mistake it would be to kiss his best friend, which is why the raven can’t stop the sharp breath he takes through his nose as Makoto presses their lips together tenderly.

It’s a short, innocent kiss, one that makes it clear that _This is all you’re getting, so don’t even think about asking for more_. When Makoto pulls away, his eyes are pained and he looks exhausted, “There? Are you happy now?” His words are dull and strained, like he’s about to cry. Haruka can’t bring himself to respond, can’t even bring himself to look his friend in the eyes seeing the torment that’s in them, like he’s been forced into submission, a victim of Haruka’s persistent chiding. He can’t figure out why- what in the world happened in the last ten seconds that caused such raw pain to consume Makoto’s normally warm gaze, and that scares him beyond anything.

Makoto doesn’t wait for a response. He walks over to the bed and lays Haruka, who is still stunned silent, down with all the care of a mother tucking her child into bed. He pulls the blankets up to Haruka’s chest, then shuts off the lamp beside the bed, all the while Haruka watches in apologetic horror as he feels his best friend being ripped away, their bond severed beyond repair, and all because of him.

“Makoto…” He tries to speak, but it comes out broken and rasped.

“Goodnight, Haru,” is all the brunet responds, brushing Haruka’s bangs to the side with a gaze that says _I know. I’m sorry too._

Haruka wants to move, wants to get up and bolt after him the second Makoto leaves the room, but his joints ache and his head is spinning, if not from the alcohol, from the overbearing emotions he’s feeling right now because he’s ruined _everything_ and he can’t even take it back. His stomach gives a violent lurch, and Haruka throws himself out of bed to the wastebasket near his desk and vomits.

He purges until he’s sure all three meals of the day are long gone from his body, and he shivers uncontrollably, weak and drenched in a cold sweat. His head pounds harder and harder, ever increasing until his vision begins to cloud at the corners, and suddenly all he sees is black, and all he feels is the hard floor beneath him.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up, Haruka is more or less confused. Mostly because he’s lying on the floor and not in his bed, although he isn’t surprised to see the wastebasket full of dried and crusty vomit before him. He sits up groggily, rubbing his head and whimpering just the slightest at the way his stomach clenches with the movement. He really was an idiot for thinking he could handle that much alcohol.

 _Water._ His mind and dried mouth demand desperately, and Haruka wills himself to get up and head towards the kitchen, but not without an unwelcomed pit-stop at the toilet where Haruka heaves up whatever fluids are left in his stomach after last night’s hurling marathon. He slumps down the stairs slowly, still clad in last night’s clothes and lazily gathering his thoughts of _What in the world happened last night?_ and hardly notices the sleeping figure on his couch until Makoto lets out a soft snore that makes the raven jolt in surprise.

 _It’s just Makoto,_ he sighs to himself, relieved, until memories of last night begin rushing into his head, and Haruka suddenly finds himself wishing that the person on his couch right now was anyone _but_ Makoto.

That man. He kissed that man! Those lips, now parted to take in even breaths and chapped with dehydration, had touched Haruka’s. _On purpose._ Haruka isn’t even aware of the fact that he’s frozen in place until Makoto starts in his sleep, face scrunching up tightly and then relaxing almost instantly as his eyes blink open, catching Haruka dumbly staring at him with a slight flush on his cheeks.

“Haru?” Makoto’s voice always sounds husky and rasped when he wakes up, and that’s never been a problem, except for today because the moment Haruka hears his name uttered in such a tone, and the way Makoto’s abs ripple- completely bare seeing as his shirt is tossed on the floor carelessly beside the couch- as he sits up and how his hair is mussed in such a way that it looks like desperate fingers had been running through it all night long while unspeakable things happened elsewhere makes Haruka’s dick stir unwillingly. Fully aware of the growing problem, Haruka does the stupidest and most pathetic thing he can do at that moment and walks away into the kitchen without a reply.

“Haru, wait! Hey,” Makoto bounces off the couch gracelessly and follows Haruka into the kitchen, to his displeasure. He stands in the entryway and watches Haruka pour a glass of water and down it in seconds, then refill it again. Haruka makes no move to speak first, or even acknowledge that he’s there because honestly the last thing he wants to do is explain himself when he feels as shitty as physically possible already. He occupies himself with staring out the window above the sink, marveling at how such a horrible day for him could look so beautiful to everyone else.

The silence is broken by Makoto’s timid question, “So what? Are you just going to ignore me now?”

Haruka would rather not answer because _yes_ , that was the plan, but he would feel like a complete dick admitting it out loud. “I don’t want to talk about it,” is all he says, assuming that Makoto will pick up on what he’s referring to.

“Well I don’t really give a fuck what you don’t want to do.”

Haruka’s hairs stand on the back of his neck at the curse word. Not that he’s never heard Makoto swear before, but the tone of it, the sharpness, the way that it’s directed right at him, is what makes Haruka cringe.

“What’s your problem?” He turns abruptly, now facing the angry teen dead on and storming towards him. “I didn’t force you to do anything, so don’t get pissed at me.”

“I have every right to be pissed at you! You have no _idea_ how much of a pain in the ass you were last night, do you?”

“I’m sorry, but how exactly was I a pain in the ass?” Haruka shoots back, completely shocked that he is being blamed for this.

“Oh, would you like me to demonstrate?” Makoto asks in a condescending tone that is so _not_ Makoto that it makes Haruka want to scream for his best friend back. Before he can move though, Makoto is grabbing him by the hips and twisting him around, and Haruka feels his ass being yanked against Makoto’s groin roughly, which makes him yelp in surprise.

“What the fuck?!”

“Yeah, what the fuck is right, Haru. What do you think my reaction was last night then?” Makoto grips him so harshly it feels like his skin is being torn under his fingertips, and Haruka squirms in an attempt to get away, but as it’s always been, Makoto is stronger and holds on easily. “You think this wasn’t a little bit annoying to me? That you just suddenly decided, in front of our _entire class,_ that you were going to grind on me?”

“Well you didn’t stop me,” Haruka spits, but the comment goes unnoticed.

“And wait, how could I forget,” Makoto’s voice is absolutely dripping with anger now, and he spins Haruka again so they are face to face, as close as they had been last night. He runs his hand into Haruka’s hair roughly, the motion making the raven hot and his chest tighten, unsure if out of fear or arousal. “Kiss me,” he whispers harshly. “Fucking kiss me.”

“You’re crazy,” Haruka yells, pushing Makoto’s chest to no avail. “You’re fucking crazy, let me go!”

“Why did you say that stuff to me, Haru? Tell me the truth and I’ll let go,” he demands, the pair chest to chest in their panting rage.

“I…” Haruka’s voice suddenly grows weak; he can’t find a reason to explain himself that he knows isn’t a lie. “I was drunk, okay? I don’t know why I said that stuff, but I didn’t mean it!”

Makoto’s hard expression drops for a moment, and in that short second Haruka can see so clearly the pain that shoots through his viridian eyes. “You didn’t mean it?” The brunet’s voice is low, but still taught, straining to hold back.

“No! I didn’t mean any of it, now let go,” Haruka tosses and fights for freedom beneath Makoto’s heartbreaking stare, but he’s losing his composure, the threat of tears stinging his eyes.

“You son of a bitch,” Makoto’s voice cracks as he mutters the words, his own eyes watering visibly. He drops his grip on Haruka abruptly, making the shorter teen stumble backwards in an attempt to stay upright. By the time Haruka composes himself, Makoto is storming out of the room, stopping only to snatch his shirt off the floor, throwing it on as he continues towards the door.

“What the fuck, Makoto! Come back and tell me what the fuck is going on,” Haruka practically screams after him, and to his surprise Makoto actually stops and turns hesitantly, clearly crying now.

“You’d think you would have figured it out by now,” he says bitterly, voice thick with tears. “You seemed to be pretty insistent about it last night.”

The door slams with an echo that leave the house feeling just about as hollow as Haruka’s heart.

 

* * *

 

The next five days are excruciatingly uncomfortable, to put it even mildly. It seems like any time Haruka enters a room, Makoto leaves it. In class, the brunet sits facing forward at all times, ignoring Haruka like the desk is just an empty seat waiting to be filled with a new student. Makoto is nowhere to be seen at lunch, which distresses both Nagisa and Rei almost as much as it worries Haruka.

“Haru-chaaan!” Nagisa had cried on the third day, gripping Haruka by the elbow and shaking him passionately, “what’s going on? Mako-chan _always_ shows up for lunch, especially when you’re here!” The raven scrunched his brows at the implication, but decided it more tactful to just ignore it and move on.

“I don’t know where he is,” Haruka admitted, and the truth of his words were what hurt the most. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he didn’t know where Makoto was, and now suddenly, they hadn’t spoken in days, the only time he had even seen him was during class and at practice, where they were forced to be together, and Haruka felt like he was slowly losing the only thing that made him want to get up every day.

“Haru-chan, won’t you please talk to him? Mako-chan seems so down lately, I’m sure you can fix it!”

“He’s right, Haruka-senpai,” Rei had chimed in hesitantly, “I know I haven’t been around you guys for long, but I’ve never seen Makoto-senpai like this. And Kou-kun told me his times during practice are dropping drastically.” He pushed his glasses up, but not in that matter-of-fact way that Rei normally did, and frowned deeply, “He’s losing all motivation; it’s like he’s not even Makoto-senpai anymore.”

“He’s fine!” Haruka shot back indignantly, the aggression in his voice surprising him even. “I know Makoto better than anyone else, and I know he’s fine. Now stop bothering me about it, okay?”

Nagisa and Rei had stared at each other in disbelief after Haruka’s outburst, and the raven felt so heated and embarrassed that he had ended up storming off the roof and back to the classroom where he sat waiting for class to start, moping and listening to his stomach grumble angrily. When Makoto entered the room moments before the bell rang, he sat down silently and without even a short glace at Haruka beside him.

 

* * *

 

Today, which is now Friday, Makoto is changing all the way on the other side of the locker room, his back turned to an already dressed Haruka as he peels off his soaked swimsuit and starts to slide on his boxers. Granted, it’s just across the benches, but it still makes Haruka flush with anger and hurt. They’ve always changed next to each other, since the very first day they joined the swim club when they were just kids, no matter how badly they may have fought! He stares at Makoto with such intensity that when Nagisa asks him if he’s okay, he doesn’t even hear or acknowledge the shorter blond boy.

“Haru-chan, you’re staring at Makoto’s ass,” Nagisa chides with a stifled laugh, and Haruka’s cheeks grow red at the realization that yes, he really is staring _directly at it._

“I was not!” Haruka counters with a bite that’s a little too harsh, and the exclamation causes Makoto to peer over his shoulder at them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He catches Haruka’s gaze on accident, for just a brief moment, and for the first time in _five fucking days_ sapphire meets emerald in a heated flash. Makoto’s cheeks flush instantly and he stammers for a moment before whipping his head around, visibly shaking with either anger or humiliation, Haruka isn’t sure which.

And still, after all of this, not a word is exchanged, and Haruka can’t take it anymore. He storms over to Makoto, who only has his pants on at this point, and grips his shoulder with a force that digs his nails into the hard muscle there. Haruka throws Makoto around and slams him up against the cubbies, practically snarling in his rage.

“I’m tired of your fucking silent game Makoto,” Haruka sneers, gritting his teeth. “You haven’t spoken to me since Sunday, you haven’t even looked at me until five seconds ago, and you _still_ didn’t even bother to say something after that either! If you want this friendship to be over then just fucking say it to my face so I can move on because I’m done with pretending that this is normal for us.”

“Don’t touch me,” is all Makoto mutters, eyes avoiding Haruka’s at all cost.

“Rei-chan, lets give them some space,” Haruka hears Nagisa insist, pulling the taller boy out of the room with him, and leaving Haruka and Makoto to duke it out alone.

“Makoto,” Haruka finally speaks when they’re by themselves, voice cracking from emotion, and the name hangs heavy in the air between them.

“I don’t think you truly understand what it means,” Makoto’s voice is broken and hesitant, “to be tired of pretending.”

“What are you talking about?” Haruka spits, more than annoyed with how vague is friend is being.

Makoto’s voice raises unexpectedly, and he grabs Haruka’s shoulders, shaking him slightly as he cries, “You think it was easy for me to pretend all these years that you were just my friend? You think it was fucking easy for me to stand by and act like I didn’t want to tear my own heart out just seeing you speak to someone who was clearly interested in you?”

“… What are you saying, Makoto?”

“I’m saying that for fifteen years of my life,” Makoto is obviously crying now, practically screaming in his frustration, “I’ve been _pretending_ that you were only my best friend, that ‘friends’ was all we would ever be, and pretending that these disgusting feelings I have inside aren’t true for the sake of keeping you around, Haruka! I’ve been lying to myself for years because I was too afraid that the truth would force me to lose you!”

Haruka’s mouth is agape with shock, and he’s not sure if he’s hearing this right. Did Makoto mean that he wanted to be more than friends? Was that what he had meant the other day when he insisted that Haruka had figured out the truth already? _Had Haruka been right the night he had drunkenly asserted that Makoto wanted him?_

“Don’t do this, Makoto. Please don’t,” Haruka pleads, because he doesn’t want to hear any more of this fucked up truth. He doesn’t want this to ruin everything they had before this whole stupid mess began. He just wants his fucking best friend back.

“Haruka, I can’t just act like it’s not there,” Makoto’s hands come up from his shoulders to Haruka’s face, caressing his jaw in an act that makes the raven’s breath catch and stomach lurch. He’s disgusted by it, by Makoto touching him so affectionately and from the words he’s speaking and everything about this god damn situation, but he does nothing to stop him. Haruka stands there helplessly and lets Makoto say the words that he knows he’ll wish he never heard for the rest of his life.

“I can’t pretend that I’m not in love with you anymore.”

Haruka feels and probably looks like his entire world has shattered in that moment. It’s everything he wished would never happen. He’s so dependent, so absolutely addicted to everything he has with Makoto up to this point that the thought of this fucking it all up is enough to make him reach his arm back and then launch his fist forward, punching Makoto across the cheek and watching with wide eyes as tiny droplets of blood splatter out from Makoto’s mouth and onto the floor. The brunet lets go of Haruka and clutches his own face, hair hanging limp in his eyes as he tries to comprehend what just happened.

“I hate you,” Haruka sobs before he can even think what he’s saying. “I fucking hate you!” He turns on his heels and bolts out of the changing room without even grabbing his bag or towel, willing himself not to turn around and make sure his best friend- could he even still call him that now?- was okay.

“Haruka, wait!” He hears the desperate cry from Makoto, the sobbing that follows, but only for a moment before he’s far enough away that he can’t hear anything aside from his own frantic breathing and the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Haruka runs, and runs, and runs until he feels like he has nowhere else left to run to but home. He ignores the tears that slide down his cheeks as he sprints, not even bothering to wipe them off until he reaches his doorstep, where he stops and pulls off his shirt, using it to dab the sweat out of his eyes as well. He doesn’t feel like crying anymore when he closes the door behind him; he doesn’t feel anything, really.            Haruka walks upstairs with heavy steps, legs aching from exertion, and doesn’t even bother stop in his room before heading straight to the bath, where he strips himself methodically, dropping sweat-drenched clothing to the floor, then begins to fill the tub. He doesn’t care that the water is still pretty cold when he gets in, he doesn’t care that it makes his skin prick and his body sprout goosebumps all over. He simply shuts his eyes and lets himself be.

Not thinking about Makoto is more difficult than he expects, partially because every time he thinks of him, he has to remind himself _not_ to think of his best friend, which then leads him to thinking of Makoto once again to tell himself not to think of him in an endless cycle that makes his head hurt even more than it had before. Haruka finally gives in to it after a long internal battle, and finds himself dwelling on those words that had made his entire being cringe.

Which leaves Haruka then wondering why, _why in all hell,_ had his initial reaction to Makoto’s confession been… happiness? He couldn’t admit it to himself at the time, lost in his frustration, but hearing Makoto say those words had brought such a strong sense of relief and joy to him. Like he had wanted to hear Makoto admit it, like he needed the confirmation that Makoto was, in fact, in love with Nanase Haruka.

His stomach flips again at that statement, and Haruka scolds himself internally for it.

_It’s not a good thing! No matter what you may have thought you felt for Makoto at some point, you never did anything about it! You never let it ruin your friendship like he has now._

Then again though, isn’t it Haruka’s fault the kiss happened in the first place?

No, he doesn’t want to believe that. He doesn’t want to accept that it’s his fault everything changed. Makoto could have easily said no, he could have easily just left Haruka in his bed without a goodnight kiss in any form of the phrase and just went back home, saving them both the misery of the current situation. Why couldn’t Makoto have done what Haruka had been doing for years now, and just ignored those feelings?

But… wait. If Haruka had those feelings, and Makoto had those same feelings… then what is the problem? Haruka’s face flushes at the thought, the idea that he and Makoto could have just done exactly what he’d always secretly wished would have happened. They could be together, they could be a couple, a thing, a-

Is that honestly what he wants though? All Haruka knows he wants for sure is the way he and Makoto used to be, and that means _without_ the whole relationship thing. They could never be as good if they were anything else. Being friends with Makoto was so effortless, so secure and stable. If he and Makoto were together in another way, there was no telling what kinds of things could change between them, and that’s the very _last_ thing Haruka wants to happen.

His thoughts are interrupted by a soft three knocks at the door, which makes Haruka’s breath catch. Not now. Please, _please_ not right now.

“Haru?” It’s probably the most pathetic he’s ever heard his name called, and his heart feels like it’s about to shrivel up and freeze eternally, right there in his chest.

“Haru,” the voice continues after Haruka’s lack of response, holding his breathe while waiting for the next words. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve ruined everything, and I just wanted to tell you that you’re right. I shouldn’t have said those things. I should have just left it as it was and moved on but I- fuck,” he mutters, and Haruka can just see the way Makoto must be running his hands through his hair right now with nerves, how he closes his eyes in thought as he tries to put together what he wants to say, how he bites his lip with hesitation…

“I know you don’t want to be friends anymore… at least not like this. I wish I could bring the old me back, and we could be normal like how it used to be, because I just want you to be happy, Haru. I really do. But… but I don’t think that will ever be possible for me. I l-love you too much to go on pretending like it’s nothing.” Haruka feels like he’s about to burst out in tears, from anger, from the pain, from losing his Makoto over something that could have so easily been avoided.

“Anyway,” he hears the brunet pick up after a long silence, “I brought your stuff back here, since I figured you would need it for homework, or whatever.” Makoto’s voice sounds like it’s straining to keep steady, and Haruka is sure he must be crying much like himself right now. “So, if you’re hearing this, just… just know that you were and always will be the most important thing in my life, even though it has to end now. And um, I’ll t-try not to bother you anymore. G-goodbye, Haruka.”

The raven nearly sobs at the words, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth and hide the noise. He doesn’t want Makoto to come upstairs and see him like this- tearful and desperately wishing that he didn’t go.

And what makes it hurt even more is the cry he hears from downstairs, the unrestrained, completely anguished scream that rips through Makoto’s throat and does the same to Haruka’s chest, and Haruka finds himself violently convulsing in order to hold back his own aching moans. Makoto sobs openly, wailing and calling Haruka’s name in a choked voice, apologizing over and over so brokenly, so rushed that he runs out of breathe at one point and begins wheezing and coughing forcefully, which is almost frightening enough to get Haruka out of the tub to make sure he’s alright. But the coughing subsides after a long while, along with Makoto’s murmurs of “Haruka, please. I didn’t mean for this to happen… please… I don’t want to say goodbye…”

“I don’t want to say goodbye either,” Haruka whispers without thinking, his throat taught and strained from holding back, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. “Don’t go. Please don’t go.”

There’s another crushing silence. Haruka’s ears strain for a sign that Makoto’s still there, that maybe he’ll come upstairs looking for him, that maybe he’ll even wait there until Haruka decides to show himself. But eventually, he hears the heavy shuffling of feet that don’t want to move, the thunk of a bag being dropped on the floor, and then the gentle creak of a door being shut.

Haruka lets his head fall back against the cool tile wall, a last, weak tear falling down his face as he stares hopelessly above him, his chest throbbing with a kind of pain he wished that no one in the world would ever have to experience too, murmuring softly to himself in the cold, quiet house.

“Oh god,” he sobs, “what have I done?”

 

* * *

 

Because it’s the weekend, Haruka doesn’t have to worry about seeing Makoto at school the next day, although there’s a part of him that really resents that. There’s a part of him that _wants_ to see Makoto, to see if he’s just as broken and dysfunctional as Haruka is now. He’s completely lost like this, and for the first time in Haruka’s life he realizes how dependent he truly was on his best friend.

Even getting out of the bath and finding the motivation to do _something_ is becoming a daily struggle. He doesn’t feel hungry when it’s time for breakfast because eating alone sounds so unappealing. When he wants to swim, he decides he doesn’t want to go unless Makoto is there with him. He can’t even play a simple videogame without feeling guilty for it. Haruka feels like time is moving on and leaving him behind, trapped in a cloud of hazy lethargy and disinterest in existence. The only eventful moments he has are the times where he thinks about Makoto doing all these things with him, or even just spending time doing nothing together, and he cries. He knows it’s pathetic and that crying wont change anything, wont bring Makoto back, but he cries anyway. He likes the release, because it’s better than the other forms of it that come to his mind in sick desperation.

The worst moments for Haruka, the ones that he never realized how much he would miss when they were taken away, are the times when he clutches his phone to his chest, waiting for that message he knows he should be getting at certain points of the day.

 

_9:15 a.m. Good morning Haru-chan! Don’t sit in the tub too long- I know it’s the weekend, but that won’t stop me from coming to pull you out!_

_1:30 p.m. Hey, I’m hungry. Your place or mine?_

_6:00 p.m. Are you doing anything tonight? I just got the new Final Fantasy game if you want to watch._

_2:00 a.m. Goodnight, Haru. Sorry you couldn’t stay. Next time :)_

 

Sometimes Haruka pulls up a new draft on his phone, set to send to Makoto. Usually he doesn’t type much, if anything at all.

 

_Come back. I miss you._

That’s all he can bring himself to write most of the time before deleting the message hastily, avoiding the temptation of pressing the send button in his despair. Only once has he written out exactly what he wants to say, and even then, he can’t quite get it all out.

_Makoto, come back and give me another chance. We don’t have to just give up everything; I know we can make this work no matter what we decide to do. I’m sorry that I pushed you away. I don’t hate you. I was just so angry about losing you, I didn’t even realize that I was gaining another part of you than I had never experienced before. I shouldn’t have shut you down so quickly, because the truth is that… I’ve always_

And that’s usually where Haruka stops, afraid that if he types what he wants to, somehow Makoto will know, or the message will send without his permission and everything will end up even worse than it already is. So he deletes it and goes back to laying there in wait for one of Makoto’s messages.

It was actually quite the emotional hell the night Makoto left, when Nagisa decided he would send Haruka a message asking if everything was okay. Haruka had heard his phone buzz from a text and immediately he scrambled to pick it up, almost in hysterics at the thought that maybe Makoto wasn’t gone, that he wanted to fix things as much as Haruka did. The heart-shattering realization that it wasn’t him though left the raven angrily biting back tears, trying to compose himself before lying blatantly to Nagisa and telling him things were fine, that he and Makoto we’re just like normal.

 _Normal_ , Haruka thinks while he lays in bed. What does he even mean by that anyway? What was ever really normal about his relationship with Makoto? Last he checked, it wasn’t really that normal to spend, by choice, almost every waking minute with your best friend. It wasn’t really normal for you to take baths with him even after you were in middle school, and only once you were high schoolers did you decide maybe wearing swimsuits in the bath was a little more appropriate than what you had done up to that point. It probably wasn’t normal at all that when your best friend was lonely at night, he would call you and you would walk over at god-knows-when in the morning to his house and crawl into bed with him, letting him wrap his arms around you, listening to his heartbeat as you slowly drifted off…

For Christ sake, the only normal thing they had done was not kiss, and even that was ruined now!

Is anything he’s asking for now really that different from what Makoto wants? Why is he doing this to himself- to them- if they practically are asking for the same thing?

Haruka has talked himself into circles like this many times now. He convinces himself that they can make it work, that he would be okay with letting Makoto do whatever it is he wants to do, that it’s what he wants. But honestly, Haruka isn’t sure how he would handle the physical commitment that comes with being in a relationship, especially the level Makoto would probably require. How strange would it be to have Makoto’s hands touching him sensually, to feel his lips on his with passionate hunger and to feel their bodies pressed together desperately trying to feel more of each other. Could he really do that?

It’s not that Haruka never thought he would be intimate with someone, but with Makoto? Would he be shy and gentle, or eager and rough? Would he want to be the one who…? Haruka doesn’t even want to imagine that right now, knowing how riled up these sort of thoughts get him. He can feel himself growing semi-hard at even the mention of it. There had only been a few times when Haruka had given in to the temptation of release, and he really didn’t feel like now was an appropriate time. Especially when his normal choice of imagery during those moments was the very person he was fretting over.

Okay yes, Makoto is a very attractive person, Haruka can’t deny that, and yes, he had slipped into his mind and been the very cause of the muffled moaning and grunting coming from Haruka’s lips those nights he chose to pleasure himself, but that was different than _being_ with Makoto, right? It couldn’t _really_ be an indicator of his openness to try a relationship with him… could it?

The more Haruka thinks about this, the stupider he feels. He and Makoto had the perfect opportunity. And Haruka just had to go and be selfish! He had to let his fears of change get in the way of what he really wanted- and to be frank, despite what Haruka has been telling himself for so long- _he fucking wanted Makoto._

Not a big shock there. It is so obvious to Haruka, no matter how ridiculous or disgusting he feels because of it.

And… well dammit, Haruka needs to do something about it!

Before thinking any further, before he can even allow himself the chance to second guess his decision, Haruka is up and out of bed, grabbing a shirt out of his closet to throw on with his shorts and bolting down the stairs. He knows Makoto is home right now- _Where else would he be if Haruka wasn’t there?-_ so he immediately heads down the steps outside his house, practically running in his excitement, adrenaline fueling his energy despite his nerves.

He hesitates for the first time when he gets to Makoto’s front door. It’s late, almost midnight, and he knows it would be rude to ring the doorbell at this hour. So he settles for the second best thing, and he walks around to the side of the house, eyeing the rickety trellis that Makoto’s mother had once conveniently placed right next to her eldest son’s window. Haruka hasn’t climbed it since he was just a little boy, when they used to sneak out onto the roof at night to look at the stars sometimes. He smiles fondly at the memory, remembering how small Makoto’s hands had felt in his when they would lay there, watching eagerly for a shooting star so they could make a wish. He always held Makoto’s hand, seeing as the brunet was scared of falling when they were up that high, but Haruka didn’t mind at all. It was comforting to feel his hand in his, reminding each other that they were still there.

The first few feet aren’t that bad, Haruka admits. The trellis only creeks a bit when he’s halfway up, and nothing sounds like it’s broken yet. It gets less secure the higher he goes, until he’s just about next to Makoto’s window and he seriously feels like this thing is going to snap in half with another step of his foot. He reaches over shakily, praying desperately that Makoto left his window unlocked, and breathes a sigh of relief when it slides open smoothly. Haruka heaves his one leg over the side of the windowsill, gripping the side tightly as he shifts his weight towards the inside of the room. Unlike usual, he falls gracelessly with a thud, which is exactly the kind of entrance he was not hoping for, especially in such a delicate situation.

As expected, Makoto wakes up with a gasp that borders a yelp as he sits up violently, clutching the sheets with white knuckles. It takes him a moment before he recognizes the raven sprawled clumsily on his floor.

“H-haru?! What the fuck are you doing?”

“I came to see you,” the shorter boy mutters in response with pain, though it’s less friendly that he would like to sound.

“Why? I mean, I just thought-”

“I heard everything you said that day you came to my house,” Haruka stops him before he can repeat everything. He’s the one who should be doing some explaining, after all. “And I thought I should just clarify something.”

The raven takes a determined step towards the bed, where Makoto is sitting with wide eyes and red cheeks at the realization that he had actually been heard, and Haruka does the only thing that he thinks can really explain what he feels right now. He takes Makoto by the shirt, gripping it tightly with clenched fists, and presses their lips together in an earnest, tender kiss. Haruka doesn’t know how he thought of it, or why, really, but he’s actually quite impressed with his quick thinking. He had originally planned on just going in there and telling Makoto his feelings (a truly daunting task, if you ask him), but this seems much more straight-forward, and with a lot less words, which is definitely more Haruka’s style.

Makoto is more than hesitant- he’s practically frozen the moment their mouths meet, which doesn’t bode well for Haruka. So he just tries a little harder. His hands relax against Makoto’s chest, palms pressing firmly enough that Haruka can actually feel how Makoto’s heartbeat stutters and races each time he moves his lips a little more decisively that the last. Even though they’ve kissed before, Haruka hardly remembers just how soft Makoto’s lips are, how warm they feel pressed to his, how easily and perfectly they fit together again each time Haruka pulls away for a quick breath, then dives back in for more. Makoto allows himself to move with him, tilting his head so their noses don’t bump, letting his hands tentatively travel up to Haruka’s hips, where he holds on firmly as their lips grow more daring in their movements, mouths parting just the slightest until the quietest of moans escapes Makoto’s lips.

“Haru,” he pants softly between their kissing, brows scrunched in thought, “what’s going on? I… don’t understand… mff!” He gasps when Haruka slides his tongue into his mouth, hoping he’s doing it right and that his breath doesn’t smell too bad. Makoto seems determined to talk though, and with just enough force he pushes Haruka away to where their foreheads are just barely touching.

“Hey, c’mon,” he insists gently, voice hushed, “tell me what’s going on in your head.” Haruka feels his heart throb at the way Makoto is looking at him, eyes alight with passion, yet confused and almost a little hurt.

“Since I couldn’t just be your friend anymore, I thought this was the next best option,” Haruka murmurs with embarrassment at how cheesy it sounds.

“I just… I don’t understand, Haru. Two days ago you were screaming that you hated me, and suddenly that’s all changed?” Makoto’s voice cracks with emotion, “You really hurt me when you said that, I don’t think you even understand how bad it was. It was like my whole world was just gone, like everything I had ever cared about was taken away from me with three stupid words,” he grits, and the guilt that Haruka feels puts a crushing weight on his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Makoto.” He kisses the brunet’s nose lightly. “I said it out of anger. I was so scared of things between us changing that I blamed it all on you, and I shouldn’t have. Especially when… when I wanted the same exact thing.”

“You did?” Makoto asks incredulously, beautiful green eyes wide and imploring.

“I…” Haruka hesitates, pausing to check if he’s truly sure of his words. “I did,” he admits with a weighted sigh, relief pouring through his veins, “I just never told you because I feared the same reaction that I gave you.”

“So, all this fighting…?”

“Yeah.”

“Was complete bullshit?”

“Nn. Sorry about that…”

Haruka expects a scolding, he expects Makoto to fret over and over about how worried sick he was and how concerned he had been about Haruka and how it was all just because of a stupid bit of miscommunication. To his pleasant surprise though, he receives a snort of laughter and finds himself being pulled down onto the bed in a bone-crushing hug that he would be willing give up anything in the world for if he could feel this all the time. Makoto’s laughter is wet and shakey, because he’s probably crying again, but Haruka doesn’t have to look to know it’s a good sort of crying. The kind that makes you choke up because you just can’t find the words to explain how happy you are right now, and the hot tears that roll down your cheeks are almost as warm as your heart feels at that very moment.

“I’m so happy, Haru. I can’t even tell you how much,” Makoto breathes against Haruka’s skin, face buried in the raven’s neck. “I never thought that you w-would…” Makoto’s words are drowned by his own astonished laughter, and he squeezes Haruka in his arms a little tighter.

“Well I do.”

“I know.”

Haruka smiles to himself, letting his own arms wrap around Makoto’s neck and reveling in the fresh scent of his cucumber shampoo that lingers in his hair.

“Makoto?”

“Ne, Haru?”

“I want to be with you like this. I want to try.”

“Okay, Haru. Anything you want,” the smile is clear in Makoto’s voice when he answers.

Haruka briefly wonders just moments before falling asleep how he could have let someone like this escape him for so long.

 

* * *

 

 

Finding the courage to hold Makoto’s hand in public for the first time is a task that leaves Haruka exhausted. He figures immediately that school would be the worst place to try it (especially since Nagisa would absolutely yield the worst reaction ever and probably yell something about Haruka and Makoto being “boyfriends” now and causing a whole scene about it), but the temptation to reach over and grip Makoto’s hand that keeps brushing against his as they walk to school early in the morning is one that Haruka finds hard to resist. Makoto chatters on and on like usual -something about the twins and a science project?- but Haruka’s mind is too cluttered with debate to hear anything he’s saying really. It’s only been about a week since they “confessed” to each other, but things are still moving incredibly slow in Haruka’s opinion.

Granted, that night he had snuck over to Makoto’s house was filled with eager kisses and plenty of snuggling, but that was about it. And since then, the most affectionate gestures that had been exchanged were light pecks on the nose, and maybe, if they were alone and safe from intruders barging in, a meager kiss on the lips. And that really bothered Haruka. A lot.

Yes, he had honestly expected Makoto’s level of PDA to be skyrocketing by now, considering how affectionate he was even _before_ they were together. And now here they are, not even holding hands yet despite their blatant desires to be together. It frustrates Haruka to no end; he had kind of been riding on the idea that Makoto would initiate all firsts for _anything,_ and that included hand-holding, but at this point, it seems hopeless to continue waiting around for him to make the first move, much to the raven’s disdain.

Chest throbbing and stomach turning in his anxious determination, Haruka finally wills himself to latch his pinky to Makoto’s after another casual brush of their fingers. The contact makes the brunet stop short for only a moment, glancing sideway at a flush-cheeked Haruka, before continuing on with whatever he was saying before, his smile perhaps just a bit wider than moments ago. Neither of them mention it after that, and there’s an unspoken agreement to break their pinky-lock as they near the school grounds, hesitant to draw any sort of attention their way.

Haruka is thrilled by his efforts for the rest of the day though, and despite his normal, displeased look on his face, he doodles whimsically all over his notes, almost smiling to himself when he realizes the two interlocked hands drawn on the page seem to fit absolutely perfectly together. Although that really doesn’t surprise him much.

When they walk home after practice, Makoto doesn’t even hesitate now to take Haruka’s hand entirely in his. Haruka shivers initially when the contact is made, noting how different it feels compared to when Makoto pulls him out of the pool. With their fingers tangled together, Haruka can feel every inch of Makoto’s expansive palm pressed against his own. He wants to trace the lines and creases with his fingers, examine them and memorize them until he can draw them without even a second thought. And so he does when they get to Makoto’s house, lying on the bed together, Makoto breathing soft sighs while Haruka runs his lips over each curve and wrinkle of Makoto’s beautiful hands, solidifying each individual fold to memory with unyielding fondness.

 

* * *

 

Expecting to be able to hide their relationship forever was sort of a stupid thought, now that the truth was out. And honestly, Haruka had been expecting the news to bear reactions much worse than what they had received. Sure, it had been quite the embarrassment when Nagisa and Rei had walked in on them kissing in the locker room, but when the worst they received from them was _Finally! We thought you two were never going to figure it out_ and _S-sorry, Haruka-senpai, Makoto-senpai. Excuse us for- erm… ah, interrupting,_ they were secretly pleased with how smoothly it was going.

With Kou, things were even less reactionary. _I don’t care what you two do at home, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of your training. That’s my only word on the subject._

Rin, however, probably took it the worst of them all.

Weeks of being together had caused Makoto and Haruka to become, more or less, desensitized to the rest of the world when it came to their relationship. Holding hands was common practice, a quick kiss when no one was looking had become almost expected now, and so unfortunately for the people who had not had time to grow accustomed to this new development, it usually hit hard the fist time they experienced it. And Rin was no exception to this.

The last time a joint practice with Samezuka Academy had commenced, Haruka and Makoto had yet to even kiss yet, let alone start dating. And poor Rin hadn’t seen them since then, leaving him rather clueless to all the impending changes to come. So one can imagine the shock he received as he watched with wide, nearly-twitching eyes as Makoto pulled Haruka out of the pool ( _as usual_ , the red-head had thought in the moment), and then coaxed the shorter boy into a sweet embrace while planting soft kisses onto his blushing cheeks.

With a look of almost pure horror on his face, Rin sputtered in an attempt to form some sort of question regarding _what the fuck was going on between his two childhood friends and why the fuck no one else was freaking out like him because seriously what the fuuuuckkkk_ while Makoto and Haruka remained locked in each other’s arms. It took a ridiculous amount of time before Rin could finally get himself to utter, “What _in all fucking hell_ are you two doing.”

“Oh! Ah, sorry Rin, I guess we forgot to tell you,” Makoto had pulled away from his boyfriend immediately after Rin’s minor outburst, a hand coming up to rub his neck in embarrassment. “Haru and I are… well, we’re dating, I guess,” he had said through shy laughter. Haruka, however, was not pleased with how rude Rin was being, and in retaliation had instantly reattached himself to Makoto’s side even after he had pulled away, taking the taller man’s hand into both of his and glaring defensively at their shark-toothed friend, almost challenging him. _Go ahead,_ his gaze chided, _say something. I dare you._

Rin, at this point incapable of forming coherent thoughts, settled for shaking his head in exasperation, choosing to leave the conversation at that, muttering to himself as he walked away, “Whatever, fuckin’ weirdos. I always knew there was something strange between them I don’t give a shit what they do as long as they keep it out of my locker room then whatever those damn perverts…”

Overall, Haruka thinks to himself about a month later, it could have been much worse. He pulls himself closer into Makoto’s side, watching in the darkness how his bare chest shifts with each rise and fall of breath. He traces the lines of his body with feather-light fingers, sighing contentedly as Makoto shifts just the slightest, squeezes him in his arms just a little bit tighter, and Haruka falls asleep with the memory of them intentionally making out in the nearly empty Samezuka locker room just to piss Rin off even more when he had walked in after practice that day, insisting that the two _get a god damn room with enough locks on the door to keep a full-fledged army out of it and spare the rest of the world it’s fucking innocence thanks._

 

* * *

 

It’s been three months and eight days into their relationship the first time Haruka makes Makoto come.

They don’t plan for this night at all, they don’t really want to. Makoto insists that it will happen when it feels right, despite Haruka’s worries that maybe it will never feel right and he’s doing something wrong and it will just _never_ happen. He finds out rather easily that would not be the case.

It’s only safe to do things like this at Haruka’s house. The risk of having Makoto’s parents, or worse, _his siblings_ , walk in on them desperately trying to figure out their sexualities while lying naked in bed together does not sound like an appealing one, so they forego that option completely and settle for keeping the friskiness exclusive to the Nanase residence.

Contrary to the stories and rumors Haruka has heard, this particular exploit starts out as usual as usually gets. Haruka and Makoto are experts at making out, at teasing each other with their tongues, and becoming entangled in each other’s arms while they caress and groan and ache for each other. And that’s _usually_ where it ends.

This time though, the touches are lingering longer, each grunt and gentle moan turns increasingly more desperate in its tonality, leaving shivers and gasps to be exchanged between the two men. Makoto lets his lips fall to the junction of Haruka’s neck and shoulders and grazes his teeth along the skin there, tensing at the broken sigh that falls from his lover’s lips- that addicting little noise that _he_ caused. Haruka likes being broken by Makoto. He likes to feel himself fall apart in his arms and let himself be taken into the ever rising and ebbing swell of his heart. It’s a different kind of free that he cannot gain from the water, but it’s free nonetheless.

They’re used to doing this sort of thing naked now. The first time was a bit awkward, but now, being bare only makes sense to them. They don’t feel like they need to be shameful of their need, like they should hide how badly they want each other. It’s more so just a matter of who wants it more, and who will let their resolve crumble to pieces under the weight of their desire first. And it seems like today, it’s Makoto who will finally break.

It starts when he ruts himself against Haruka’s thigh. The contact makes Haruka’s eyes shoot open as Makoto presses his face further into his neck, groaning weakly from the friction. He repeats the motion cautiously, silently giving Haruka his chance to stop him if he feels he needs to. The raven, however, senses a new sort of tension in his belly, one that makes him want to feel Makoto’s erection press against him harder and harder, eager for the satisfaction of release. So the next time Makoto moves his hips, Haruka presses his thigh against him very deliberately and gasps with unexpected pleasure at the wanton whimper that is breathed against his skin. He does this each time Makoto presses into him, watching with fascination and burning cheeks as Makoto’s face slowly begins to scrunch with ecstasy, as his lips part and harsh gasps pour out of the now open gate, and how his fingers leave white dents in Haruka’s flushed skin as they squeeze desperately for purchase.

Haruka doesn’t know what to expect when Makoto suddenly cries out his name with a crackling rasp. All he knows is that the way Makoto clenches so suddenly around him, how his muscles all grow taught at the same moment beneath his fingers, and how a warm, almost wet feeling spreads along his legs and hip makes him impossibly harder and on the verge of bursting into a million little pieces himself.

Makoto is oblivious to this fact when he finally returns from his high, apologizing profusely between ragged panting and moving to wipe up the splatter of cum along Haruka’s side. He’s taken by surprise though as the raven grasps his wrist and moves Makoto’s hand to the throbbing hardness of his own cock, very unsubtly indicating his need at the moment. The brunet falters for a second, murmuring a hushed, “Are you sure?” To which Haruka responds with a languid, moan-inducing kiss that leads Makoto to the confirmation he needs before he starts stroking Haruka’s length hesitantly.

“Makoto,” Haruka hardly gets out between the pleasure he’s feeling, “d-do it like you do to yourself. You know…”

It’s clear how embarrassed Makoto is at the implication, the fact that Haruka obviously must know but has now chosen to acknowledge what he must do each night when they part unsatisfied and aching for each other still. Makoto stammers at this, pulling away to meet his lover’s half-lidded gaze, and mutters, “Haru, Haru I… I don’t…”

“It’s okay,” the raven replies softly, a hand coming up to caress Makoto’s heated cheeks, “I’ll be okay. Just try for me, please.”

“Alright,” Makoto finally agrees despite his hesitation, resuming the stoking of his hand with a bit more fervor. It doesn’t take long before he’s worked Haruka into a moaning mess, watching with enlightened eyes as the boy beneath him writhes and presses his knuckles between his teeth to suppress the noises he so-badly wants to let out. Considering the state he was in just a few minutes ago, Haruka is almost impressed by how long he holds out before he finally spills himself onto Makoto’s hand and his own stomach, almost too far gone to hear the way Makoto sighs his name over and over into his ear and whispers words like _so beautiful_ and _you’re perfect_ and _mine_ in between _Haru… Haru… Oh, Haru…_

Haruka wouldn’t mind laying there forever like this, but it’s Makoto who insists after some time that they really should take a bath. Especially Haru.

“Can’t we just stay here forever?” Haruka groans, rolling over onto his side and wrapping his arms around Makoto’s waist tightly.

“You can have forever and a half after you get cleaned up,” the brunet smiles warmly, detaching the limbs that are snug around him and dragging Haruka up enough until he gives in and stands on his own, sighing heavily.

“Promise?”

Makoto chuckles and holds out his pinky towards Haruka, which the raven instinctively locks his own with and nearly grins, “Pinky promise.”

 

* * *

 

Sex, Haruka finds, is not as painful as he was told it would be. It hurts, yes, as Makoto’s dick stretches him nearly to the brink of his limits, but Makoto makes up for it in his touches, how he cherishes every inch of Haruka as he slowly drives deeper and deeper inside of him.

“Haru,” the brunet whines as his lover meets his thrusts eagerly by pushing his own hips up, sinking Makoto even further into him. “It’s, ahh, so good. Fuck,” he grits and his hips jolt unsteadily.

“Mah-Makoto, more. Please,” Haruka just barely cries after a particular thrust that sends sparks into his eyes. Makoto’s movements speed up, he pushes harder than he thinks is really safe for Haruka, but the raven makes no protest. He merely clenches down even tighter around Makoto, making him groan so loudly Haruka feels a tremor run down his spine from the noise. He lets himself be taken completely, falls victim to the way Makoto’s hands infuse each touch with passion and how his lips press against his own with a bottomless desire that’s so clearly different that simple lust. Haruka can feel himself being swallowed in, can feel how he’s falling so helplessly and he can’t say much else about it aside from that _he likes it_. He likes the idea of being trapped within Makoto forever, of being eternally wrapped in everything that is him until he’s drowning in it. Until he can’t even breathe because he’s just so filled with Makoto and he wants every single moment of his life to be like that because he’s _certain_ that he’ll never truly get enough of it.

“Ah, Haru, Haru I’m-” Makoto’s breathing becomes almost as frantic as the rapid rutting of his hips. Haruka knows what he’s going to say without him having to even finish the sentence, and he takes Makoto’s face in his hands, marveling at how his eyes glisten in near tears and how his teeth are clenched together and how he’s practically sobbing now because he’s so close he can’t take it anymore and it’s all so beautiful that Haruka can’t bear to miss a single second of it.

“Look at me, Makoto. Look at me when you come,” he purrs, and the dam within Makoto breaks. He cries, really just _screams_ as he comes harshly inside of Haruka, pressing their foreheads together as he does his best to keep his eyes open despite the dizzying pleasure he feels. Haruka feels every last ounce of air be taken from him and stares breathless at Makoto, in awe of how someone like this could be with someone like himself, how he became so fucking lucky to have been claimed by the human manifestation of perfection. Because that’s what Makoto is, despite all of his quirks and habits that others might see as annoying, and even that Haruka finds annoying sometimes, and despite how many times Makoto insists that it’s Haruka who is the perfect one because he’s definitely not when there’s someone ten thousand times more thoughtful and selfless and caring and gentle and _everything_ than him.

“Haruka, oh god Haruka I-ahhh,” Makoto moans as he rides Haruka so deeply that it’s enough, paired with the overwhelming emotions he’s feeling along with how his dick is being rubbed between their stomachs fervently, to make Haruka come with a shuddering cry, high and airy and so full of pure rapture that he’s afraid if he lets go of Makoto now, he’ll wake up with the horrible realization that this was all just a dream because how, _how could something feel this good and be real?_

Haruka only cries once during the whole thing, and he tells himself it’s because of the dull, burning ache he feels from Makoto being inside of him and definitely _not_ because of the way Makoto breathes, “I love you” so softly into his lips afterwards.

 

* * *

 

Haruka doesn’t know what to say when Makoto calls him four and a half weeks later, obviously crying.

“Come over, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay.”

He’s even more at a loss for words when Makoto tell him he’s cheated.

“You… what?”

“I’m s-so sorry, Haru,” Makoto barely gets out between his harsh sobs as he sits on his bed, “I’m so, so sorry.”

Haruka can’t tell if that feeling in his stomach is just a feeling or if he really is about to throw up. Makoto would never… no, he couldn’t have. He couldn’t have cheated. Not now, not after everything he’s said, after all the times he’s promised forever and a half, after every touch and whisper and embrace and every moment that Haruka could have sworn was real, pure love.

“What happened?” He finally asks, toneless, unsure if he really wants to know the answer. When? How long? Who is she, he? Are they better than me? Cuter than me? Smarter than me? Funnier than me?

_Why?_

It takes more than a few calming breaths before Makoto can speak, and even so it’s still choked and pathetic. “I-It was today. After you left for swim club I… Aki-kun asked if I could quickly help her with an algebra problem a-and I said sure,” a fat tear falls down his cheek, and Haruka can feel his own eyes welling up, his stomach twisting into knots and his fists balling at his sides.

“I shouldn’t have, Haru. I should have left but I just… I couldn’t just say no and so I started to help her, and w-when I leaned over her desk to write down the formula s-she…” Makoto starts sobbing again, his face in his hands as he finally gags out, “she k-kissed me.”

…

Haruka is literally dumbstruck now, the tears that had been falling down his cheeks seeming to halt instantly the moment Makoto finishes his confession. “Wait, she kissed you?”

“Y-yeah,” Makoto cries, shaking his head, “it’s h-horrible, I know. I’m so sorry Haru I didn’t mean it at all!”

“She… kissed you.”

“Yeah…”

“And did you want to kiss her?”

“No!” Makoto deflects instantly, his voice cracking as he defends himself. “I would never ever want to kiss anyone except Haru!”

Haruka has never wanted to smack Makoto more than he does right now. Wants to take the palm of his hand and smash it as hard as he can against Makoto’s cheek because how dare he, how _dare_ he get Haruka so worried over something like this and he can’t help but cry out of relief and anger and a bunch of other confusing emotions right now because god how _dumb_ can this guy be sometimes?

“Baka, Makoto! You stupid, stupid idiot!” Haruka sobs too now, throwing his arms around Makoto’s neck and pressing his face into his shirt. “I can’t believe you!”

“Haru, do you hate me for cheating?” Makoto asks timidly through hiccups as he hugs his boyfriend back, squeezing almost painfully tight.

“No, no I don’t hate you for cheating you idiot. I hate you for making me _think_ you cheated when it was nothing at all!”

Makoto pulls away then, looking confused as per usual when Haruka says something he totally doesn’t expect. “B-but I did cheat. I told you she kissed m-”

“That’s not cheating, Makoto. You didn’t want to kiss her, right? She kissed you first?”

“I _told_ you I never wanted to kiss her Haru and I really meant it!”

Haruka sighs, shaking his head and bringing Makoto into his arms again, “I know. I believe you. But Makoto, if you didn’t mean it, and you stopped her, then it’s not your fault. You didn’t cheat, okay? Just don’t scare me like that by saying you did.”

There’s a long silence between the two, Haruka running his fingers through Makoto’s hair while the taller boy finally calms down enough to speak clearly.

“So, you’re not mad?”

“Did you tell her you had a boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Then no, I’m not mad.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“… I love you, Haru-chan.”

“I know. I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

Five thousand six hundred and thirteen. That’s how many freckles, Haru concludes, that Makoto has on his back. Maybe five thousand six hundred and fourteen if you count that little mole he has right above his hip.

“Haru, what are you doing? That tickles,” Makoto laughs breathily, the sound muffled by his face in the pillow he’s clutching in his arms. Haruka sits atop of him, straddling his waist as he runs his fingers over the miniscule brown dots that splatter Makoto’s expansive back.

“Counting,” is all Haruka replies.

“Counting what?”

Running his finger over the little flecks, almost like he’s playing connect-the-dots, Haruka merely murmurs, “Your constellations.”

Makoto grows silent at that. He likes when Haruka gets like this; lost in his own mind so far that the things he says become abstract and even a bit weird, but adorable nonetheless. He likes to hum quietly and go along with it, urging Haruka to tell him more about whatever odd thing he’s noticed today.

“Ne, Haru-chan, and how many constellations are there?”

It takes a long time for Haruka to answer. “More than in the sky.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Nn.”

Makoto closes his eyes as Haruka continues to draw trails between his freckles, wiggling sometimes if he finds a ticklish spot, until Makoto can feel himself drifting off, cocooned by the silent peace filling the air around him. Haruka watches him doze, smiles at the gentle snores his boyfriend huffs out through his nose. He looks out the window at the rain-splattered world, watercolor clouds causing a gloomy haze to form over Iwatobi. Haruka doesn’t mind days like this, even if it means he can’t swim, because it usually means he can spend endless sleepy hours in bed with Makoto instead. He leans down over his back, pressing his lips to the lowest dip along his spine, then makes his way upward, inhaling Makoto’s sweet scent, one that reminds Haruka of something like warm citrus and vanilla, if that’s even a real smell. Maybe something like lemon tea and sugar? That sounds about right. Haruka quite likes that description, actually.

He runs his hands all over Makoto’s back, feeling his firm sides and built shoulders, kneading them gently until they loosen under his touch. Haruka doesn’t mind giving Makoto impromptu massages like this, since it gives Makoto a reason to take a nap and Haruka a reason to marvel at his boyfriend’s back like it’s the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. It happens often enough now that Makoto usually doesn’t protest, and Haruka hardly even has to ask before Makoto is turning to lay on his stomach, smiling to himself because Haru can be just too cute sometimes.

A long time passes before Haruka feels Makoto stir beneath him. He waits expectantly for him to talk while he continues dancing his fingers over his skin.

“Haru?”

“Mm.”

“Have you finished counting?”

Haruka can’t help but smile at the drowsiness in his voice, how he sounds muffled and sleepy from his position on the pillow, and how beautiful he looks when he peers over his shoulder, one eye peeping open with shimmering curiosity to investigate whatever Haruka is doing. Haruka knows he’ll never be finished counting, but usually when Makoto asks questions like that, it means _come here now it’s time to snuggle_ , and Haruka has never had the heart to tell him no.

“Yes, I’m done counting,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss Makoto’s exposed cheek.

“Good. Come here then.”

Makoto rolls over onto his back, opening his arms up enough for Haruka to find his place within them, and then closes them around the body of his lover until they’re pressed so tightly together it’s hard to tell where one of them starts and the other ends.

“Haru, did you know you have constellations too?” Makoto says quietly after several minutes of silence.

“No… Where are they?”

“In your eyes, Haru-chan. They show whenever you see something you love, like the water.”

Haruka hums in interest, looking up and meeting Makoto’s tired gaze with a gentle smile. “Do you see them now?”

“I do,” Makoto grins back, brushing Haruka’s bangs away from his eyes to see them better.

“How many are there?”

“Hmm,” Makoto purses his lips, like he’s actually counting every single one, “looks like about… infinity and a half.”

“That’s funny,” Haruka whispers, forcing Makoto to draw in closer to hear him. Pressing a sweet kiss onto his lips, Haruka can’t help but chuckle when he pulls away and adds, “I counted the same for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> So much angst. Sometimes I look back on my fics and suddenly realize where my overdramatic nature comes from. Ooops. 
> 
> Hope you liked it! I would love to hear your comments below. Thank you for reading! Check out my [makoharu blog](http://tachinanabananase.tumblr.com/) as well as my [personal blog](http://fikkifini.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! <333


End file.
